Category Five
by Rai-kun
Summary: An explosive revelation leads to stormy days ahead.


It was a lazy summer afternoon. It was a Saturday-- No, it  
was definitely a Sunday since Akane wasn't home yet, having  
spent the previous night at Yuka's house.

Yes, a Sunday. That's when it all started.

"What started?", you might be wondering. And the answer to  
that would be revealed with a roof shattering...

B A N G!

Splintered wood, pots, pans, ceramic tiles, plastic, and  
martial artists were sent flying high into the air.

How very typical of a day in Nerima.

Or so you'd think.

Let us explore how said event unfolded, shall we?

------------  
Category Five

Chapter 1

By Rai-kun

Disclaimer: The characters and setting of Ranma 1/2 belong  
to Rumiko Takahashi, Shogakukan, Kitty, and Viz Video.  
------------

Kasumi Tendo was the oldest of three sisters and cherished  
daughter of Soun Tendo - local martial arts master,  
crybaby, and purported thumb sucker. Dressed in a pink  
apron, adorned with a pair of yellow baby chicks, she was  
deep in thought as she surveyed the splendor of her  
culinary kingdom.

Kasumi stared. She stared hard. It was the kind of look  
that you tended to reserve for situations where you've hit  
the guardrail known as normality then plowed headlong into  
the cinder block known as weird. I mean, really, what is  
an appropriate response and reaction when you're faced with  
an orange and green colored glorp?

Kasumi was sure that wasn't even a word, but it SEEMED to  
properly describe what was bubbling merrily in the cast  
iron pot on her stove.

Her eyes trailed across the scorched plain of her counter  
top to settle on the odd gathering of an empty jar of  
mayonnaise, a can of pickled duck eggs, a carton of orange  
juice, a spent squeeze tube of hot mustard, the wrappers  
from three sticks of butter, and an open container of hot  
cocoa mix.

It seemed to be the remnants of a cult gathering of some  
black magic sort. Or another blind stab at recreating  
Woodstock; it was hard to tell them apart.

Kasumi handled the situation like a professional, simply  
wearing her ever-present smile. A boiled duck egg floated  
to the surface with a clod of spinach on top, looking as  
though it was raising an eyebrow at her in challenge - it  
was daring her to do something.

She wanted to be able to bat at the grabby appendages and  
admonish it sternly, but when you've already lost your  
wooden spoon, metal ladle, and a rolling pin to the depths  
of its foul brine, want has a tendency to diminish in favor  
of self-preservation.

That it proved stubbornly adept at wielding a spatula in  
self-defense played only a small, insignificant part in her  
decision.

Really.

Kasumi tied a white kerchief tight over the top of her head  
then snapped on a pair of elbow length, black rubber  
gloves. She wore an eerie, neutral expression as she  
turned on the garbage disposal. This was going to be very  
messy, she knew, but ultimately necessary. Kasumi snatched  
the butcher knife from the cutting board and approached the  
pot. She wasn't going to purloin any pleasure in this  
task.

A noodly appendage snaked out and snared a nearby dish of  
tofu and some jalapenos. Kasumi's left eye twitched  
noticeably and she revised her earlier opinion. A silly  
dance was now on menu once this was done with.

The glorp - as if picking up on the shift in Kasumi's  
thoughts from pink bunnies, love, and lollipops - shook  
spastically in the pot as she neared. This had the effect  
of making the girl wonder if it was merely hardening after  
consuming that last strawberry Jell-O packet or because it  
was turning into some kind of mutant taffy.

Could it be that it knew instinctively that its end was near?

Kasumi chuckled at her own silly musing as she lopped off a  
wiggling linguini tentacle with a deft cleaving of her  
knife.

------------

Ranma Saotome was an easily recognized figure by many in  
the Nerima area, from his distinctive smoke-blue eyes to  
his trademark pigtail and Chinese garb that he always  
seemed to favor. What really set him apart from the  
average ho-hum everybody was this unseen, but well  
recognized, field of absolute weirdness that followed him  
dutifully and nipped at his heels.

As it was doing right now, for example.

In the middle of a fairly busy street, the young man found  
himself engaged in an animated discussion with a giant  
panda bear that had a thrashing burlap sack slung over its  
shoulder.

Back and forth they went, like hot stock market traders.  
Barbed remarks seemed to be selling at a two for one price  
for every incensed flashing of wooden signs. That they  
were covered with calligraphic scrawling that teetered on  
the edge of being a work of abstract art might have had a  
hand in stilting the exchange rate.

Serving a second function, as a blunt instrument didn't   
hurt either, as the panda swatted the boy.

Ranma rubbed his head, while glaring at the towering, fuzzy  
throw rug. "If you stopped smacking me with that damn  
thing, I might be able to read it, you fat fool!"

'Oh, woe is me. I've raised an illiterate, ingrate with no  
respect for his father. Where did I fail, Nodoka? Where?'  
it read after a quick twirl.

Ranma kicked him in the knee, dropping him like a cut tree  
that'd make any lumberjack proud. He winced in sympathy  
though when he saw that the once-thrashing bundle was now  
pinned, unmoving, beneath the girth of hairy panda  
buttocks.

"Look, Pop," Ranma reasoned, trying hard to ignore the  
pitiful groans from the bag. "Just cut the bull and tell  
me why you got old man Tendo in the sack."

'I'd never betray your mother like that!' the panda  
informed him with the furious waving of his sign.

Ranma smacked a palm against his face. "Are you TRYING to  
piss me off?" he asked in a mirthless tone.

The shifty panda held up another sign for his boy.

"'It's because I'm his friend that I do this!'" Ranma read  
aloud with an arched brow. "'His evil must be stopped!  
It's for the good of the world!'"

"Laying it on thick, aren't you?" Ranma asked.

'You'd think that, but that's why you're still the stupid  
student and I the wizened master.'

Ranma snorted.

'Let me tell you this then. Where do you think dear Akane  
got her cooking skills from, eh?'

"What are you trying to say?" Ranma asked. A fearful chord  
was plucked in his tone. "Now look here, are you trying to  
say--"

A sign was thrust into Ranma's face with the words: 'Oh  
yes.' The chubby panda's menacing grin became smug as  
unwanted realization flashed in the eyes of his kin.

Tendo Soun was the original Kitchen Destroyer.

------------

Cat-Fight (noun)

1. A fight between or among cats.  
2. Informal. A vociferous dispute.  
3. Daily get together between Ranma's "friends".

------------

There was a small gathering just outside the walls of the  
Tendo family compound. Two girls and a lone boy talked  
heatedly between each other.

"I can't believe you tried to get Ranchan with another one  
of your wacky weeds!" Ukyo Kuonji admonished, with trace  
hints of jealousy at not boasting the same arsenal in her  
weapon closet.

"Is not 'weed'," A statuesque girl with lavender hair  
commented with an annoyed toss of her hair. "But would  
work if stupid Pig Boy not get in way." She punctuated her  
statement with a sharp glare to her right.

Said "Pig Boy", or Hibiki Ryoga as he preferred when in the  
right state of mind, didn't respond to the verbal jab in  
the least bit. Far too absorbed was he in immaculately  
setting in order his wild bangs as he adjusted a makeshift  
bowtie made from one his striped bandanas.

That he was admiring the efforts of his impromptu fashion  
makeover by staring into the flat of Ukyo's battle spatula  
spoke volumes of the dread power of the Amazon herbal  
practices.

"What DID that drink do anyway?" Ukyo asked, staring as the  
fanged boy winked and blew kisses at his own distorted  
reflection.

"Is 'Casanova Win You Over' potion with ginseng for healthy  
body," Shampoo told her as a matter of fact.

"The hell is that supposed to do?" Ukyo asked dubiously.  
The name on some of the concoctions... I mean, honestly.  
It's like they pull these things out of a hat.

Shampoo snapped her finger and a deep shudder shot through  
the directionally challenged boy. Stiffly at first, but  
becoming more relaxed with every movement, Ryoga posed,  
twirled, and strutted through a rough rendition of Saturday  
Night Fever. Unfortunately, he bore a more striking  
resemblance to a zombie backup dancer from Thriller  
instead.

Ukyo choked at the sight then couldn't stop herself from  
laughing out loud with little shame or reservation. She  
chortled then guffawed until she was red in the face and  
had to lean on the wall to keep from falling over.

"What so funny?" Shampoo asked the raven-haired girl with  
true puzzlement playing across her face. "Is dance of  
manly man. Can even make him sing too if want."

Ukyo wiped tears of laughter from her eyes as she  
straightened and composed herself. "I'm sorry, sugar, but  
I can't let you make Ranchan look that stupid. Even if it  
did serve that jackass right for ignoring me the last few  
days."

"You think is stupid?" Shampoo replied aghast. "I think  
you is stupid, Pie Girl."

"I don't make pies, Noodle Wench, but I'll gladly show you  
how they're different while I cram one down your throat,"  
Ukyo offered with a saccharine smile.

"When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, it's  
amore!" Ryoga crooned.

"SHUT UP!" Shampoo and Ukyo hissed venomously in chorus.

The two women met glares, and then bared their claws - bonbori  
and giant spatula glinting ominously.

------------

"But how can there be more than one?" Ranma asked his  
father incredulously.

Ranma had to squint as Genma's handwriting became more  
illegible while trying to keep his sack from squirming.  
"Great evils always come in pairs, Boy. A master and its  
apprentice, though never more than that," he slowly read  
out.

For once, Saotome father and son were in total agreement, as  
they were both thankful for the last fact. The bundle  
seemed to have issues with the continued slight against his  
cooking proficiency.

"So you're telling me," Ranma went slowly, to make sure he  
had all the details, "that Mister Tendo TAUGHT Akane how to  
cook like a dyslexic, one-armed, color blind, kitchen  
gorilla with no patience?"

Genma nodded.

"On purpose?"

The pig-tailed boy would have to look at Soun in a new  
light depending on how his father answered.

'Evil knows no bounds.'

"Think we can let him out the sack, Pop?" Ranma asked his  
fuzzy father. On getting a quirked brow in response, "I  
got some questions for him, is all."

------------

Kasumi finally managed to upend the pot and send the  
wriggly noodle critter into the sink with old-fashioned  
elbow grease, stubborn determination, and sharp scissors.  
The way it kept nervously eyeing her blowtorch probably had  
a helping hand as well. The sheer usefulness of having a  
blowtorch in a kitchen is innumerable. It was perfect for  
fancy touches on a creme brulee, but was also good for  
lighting cigarettes. Why, the happy smile her father wore  
on seeing the five-inch long blue flame kick on made it all  
worth it.

"Now what?" Kasumi asked herself, staring at the situation  
on hand.

A spider web of linguini was wrapped around the faucet and  
its gooey cheddar cheese center was holding fast to the  
sink like a suction cup. It resisted pushing and pulling  
so far like a petulant child and it did something to her  
scissors as they refused to open now.

She crossed her arms across her chest in consternation,  
giving the concoction a frown. It seemed to shrink in on  
itself at the look of disproval, but its self-preservation  
instinct wouldn't be browbeaten into submission so easily.

Kasumi rolled her neck, feeling the tension in her  
shoulders, and her eyes fell upon the blowtorch. As if  
following her gaze a pair of matzo balls shrank back in  
horror and the glazed Swedish meatballs attempted to give  
her the best puppy dog look it could manage.

Being made of sterner stuff, the oldest Tendo daughter took  
the canister in hand. The loud clicks from the starter  
trying to generate a spark was followed by the 'whoosh' as  
the blue and yellow flame kicked on. Kasumi adjusted the  
knob on the side of the device and the flame focused to a  
fine, azure tip.

If the foodstuff had vocal cords it would've shrieked. For  
when Kasumi turned, the light of the blowtorch made grimmer  
the stony expression she wore. She sported tinted goggles  
that shielded and hid her eyes from the quivering mass.

------------

"Olive oil, fish oil, peanut oil, corn oil... and I think  
that's it," Soun finished.

It was an odd sight - a panda sitting unsteadily on its  
haunches, next to a pigtailed youth who squatted  
attentively, in front of a potato sack with the head of a  
mustachioed man poking out.

"Ugh! That's just disgusting!" the youth exclaimed,  
distancing himself from the man he thought he knew so well.  
Soun simply blinked uncomprehendingly at him.

'Was it the part about the fish head stewing in the cheddar  
cheese, licorice, chunky peanut butter, and banana base?'  
the erratic scrawling of the sickly panda asked.

"No," Ranma replied, "It's the whole idea of mixing mustard  
and ketchup on a hot dog. It's so unnatural."

Genma would've hit him with another sign if the mention of  
the hot dog hadn't brought back his training buddy's  
brilliant notion of mixing mayonnaise, oysters, cinnamon,  
and chocolate syrup as a "flavorful sauce". His stomach  
lurched and he made gagging noises.

"But we have to get back," Soun pleaded with his  
future son-in-law.

Ranma ignored his father's intestinal discomforts as he  
looked at Soun. "Yeah? Why's that?"

"Because I have to finish my dish," the man said, in a  
matter of fact tone. "The chance to surprise my little  
girls with my skills that I honed during ten years on the  
road training in the art. 'Soun Tendo's Famous Flambe' is  
the stuff of legend!"

'More like "infamous",' Genma's sign corrected. You could  
feel the sourness in the words, which coincidentally,  
reflected the state of his gut.

Ranma had an uneasy look. "Flambe? As in fire?"

"Yes, actually," Soun replied.

Genma and Ranma shared a look before a loud boom seemingly  
rocked the entire district.

------------

Author's Note: This is merely the prologue. We have a  
while to go before the true storm begins!


End file.
